


Green With Frenzy

by Salmon_Pink



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Costume Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim doesn't really think it's a big deal that on his first crime-fighting adventure, he wore Jason's version of the Robin suit. Kon apparently thinks it's a big deal indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green With Frenzy

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Batman Reborn. Written for the [Tim/Kon Meme](http://dcu-memes.livejournal.com/2410.html), [prompt](http://dcu-memes.livejournal.com/2410.html?thread=14186#t14186) "Kon finds out that Tim's first Robin adventure involved him wearing Jason's old suit, complete with the pretty green Robin panties. This breaks Kon's brain in the best kind of way".

“Seriously?” Kon asks, and his voice is kind of quiet, kind of husky. Probably from holding back his laughter, and Tim frowns down at the notebook he’s reading through, fingers moving lightly over schematics and diagrams. 

There’s a reason he’s never really told Kon about this before. He knows _exactly_ what Kon thinks about the original Robin suits, the ones Dick and Jason wore, has heard every single joke Kon’s ever made about them. 

If Tim’s not there to hear the jokes, Kon makes a point of texting them to him.

“Seriously,” Tim confirms without looking back. He doesn’t really want to see the look of glee on Kon’s face right now, because he’s very aware he just gave Kon _months_ of ammunition for teasing. “My first time out as Robin, I wore Jason’s old suit.”

He’s expecting Kon to dissolve into giggles, but instead Kon doesn’t say anything. Which probably means Kon’s spoiled for choice, can’t decide which crappy joke to go for first. Tim isn’t really sure why he even _told_ Kon. It just seemed easier to explain Jason’s comments and cope with the consequences than deal with the scandalised expression on Kon’s face and whatever conclusions he was obviously jumping to.

Figures Kon would show up during Tim’s latest fight with the Red Hood _just_ in time to hear Jason gloating about Tim wearing yet another of his hand-me-downs with a pointed sneer at the Red Robin uniform.

It probably wouldn’t have been a big deal if Jason hadn’t felt the need to add that crack about this one not involving _hotpants_.

And Jason’s the one who chose to wear those green shorts, so Tim doesn’t know where he gets off calling them hotpants, because isn’t that more insulting to Jason than Tim? But Tim’s long since given up trying to figure out how Jason’s mind works.

However, Tim _does_ know how Kon’s mind works, so he knows that silence can’t be a good thing. He kind of wants to turn around, look over his shoulder at where Kon’s sat on the foot of the bed, but he’s had lots of practice ignoring the need to fidget, so he concentrates on the notebook instead.

Reading like this, sprawled out on his stomach, isn’t particularly comfortable, but Jason had managed to get in a cheap shot to his kidneys, and stretching his back out means less pain in the morning.

“Seriously?” Kon says again, sounding kind of choked.

Tim makes a vague humming noise. He’s _told_ Kon, there’s no taking it back, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to keep repeating himself for Kon’s amusement.

More silence. Tim can feel himself starting to get annoyed. If he knows he’s going to be made fun of, he’d rather just get it over with. Then he can start up with his own comebacks, his own retorts. It’s not like he doesn’t have a sense of humour, not like he can’t make fun of himself or deal with other people making fun of him. But waiting for it like this is just putting him on edge.

There’s a rustle of fabric behind him, the mattress shifting, and then Kon’s warmth is suddenly hovering directly above him. Strong hands on his hips, moving too fast for Tim to do more than huff out a surprised breath when Kon pulls them back and up. T-shirt rucked up his chest by the movement, heels of his hands burning slightly with how quickly they’re dragged over the sheets, and Tim throws an arm out awkwardly to keep himself from head-butting the mattress because of the sudden change in position. 

The notebook drops noisily to the floor, and Tim squeezes his eyes shut to allow his equilibrium to adjust. 

He can feel the way Kon’s hands are supporting most of his weight, the rest balanced between his knees and the arm braced in front of his face.

“Conner, wha-”

“ _Seriously_?” Kon hisses, and it hits Tim that it wasn’t suppressed laughter that was making Kon sound strained. He _knows_ that edge to Kon’s voice, although it’s been a while since he’s heard it.

It takes him back instantly, sharp and sudden as a slap to the face. Back to the days when they were part of Young Justice and neither of them had really figured out what their feelings for each other were or what to do with them. Bickering and winding each other up, because that seemed like the easiest way to communicate, the safest way. 

And back then, Kon’s voice would get that _edge_ , that hard and yet slightly rattled tone, and it took Tim way too long to figure out that it meant Kon didn’t know whether to hit him or kiss him.

It was all about the way Tim teased Kon, even if he never realised he was doing it, but it was only fair because Kon was doing exactly the same right back at Tim, driving him crazy until just being in the same room as Kon used to leave him tense, heart pounding inside his chest.

But they’re not like that now, they both _know_ how they feel about each other. Nowadays, the teasing is intentional, because they both know the payoff, both know they’re allowed to _touch_. 

And Tim _isn’t_ actually teasing Kon right now, he’s simply telling the truth. 

Kon doesn’t appear to care.

It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, because apparently his body is still conditioned to react to that tone, and he shivers for it, knows Kon feels it because his fingers dig into Tim’s hips a little harder. Hard enough that there are going to be finger-shaped bruises there, and Tim can’t fight the way that just makes him shiver harder still.

“You-” Kon pants a little, like he can’t catch his breath. “You went out in those - In the _damn_ -” He drags Tim’s hips a little higher, enough that Tim’s knees almost leave the bed, toes sliding over the sheets as he tries to adjust. Kon’s breath feels painfully hot against the small of Tim’s back. “You went out in those damn _panties_?!”

And it should be ridiculous, should be a joke, but Kon sounds so _serious_ , so angry and flustered and frustrated.

So _possessive_ , and Tim hears himself make a soft noise that sounds far too close to a whimper, and pushes his face down harder against the back of his arm.

“Did you - Did you let people _see_ you like that?!” Kon groans, pressing his mouth wetly to the base of Tim’s spine, the words dragging his lips against Tim’s skin. “Your legs, God, your bare _legs_.”

His hands are sliding lower, except they feel like they’re still right where they were, and Tim realises distantly that it’s Kon’s TTK that’s holding him now instead, clinging to his hips and supporting his weight. Kon’s hands palm at his ass, and Tim keeps his eyes scrunched shut and tries to breathe, the air fogging up damp and heavy between his mouth and the mattress.

And, oh God, that was a _whine_ , high and needy and escaping from his throat before he can clamp down on it, because Kon’s thumbs are spreading his ass through his boxer-briefs.

“You let _them_ see you like that, but not _me_?” Kon growls, and then he’s licking at Tim, strong, hard path up the cleft of his ass, pressing the material against Tim’s skin. Tongue catching against Tim’s hole before he’s licking at it, rasping the fabric against the sensitive skin there. Tongue pushing in sharp little stabbing motions, and Tim feels himself clenching then opening under the attention, twitching for it, can’t help the way his body reacts. There’s the strange sensation of the very tip of Kon’s fabric-covered tongue pushing inside, and Tim’s ears are burning with embarrassment and _need_. 

And Kon isn’t _stopping_ , hands spreading Tim wide enough that it almost _hurts_. Tim’s free arm comes up over his head, trying to cover himself, trying to hide. Because it feels like Kon is _punishing_ him, and he’s so damn hard for it he can barely breathe. 

Doesn’t matter how much of himself he’s willing to share with Kon, because there’s always going to be that part of him that needs to cling to his control. But right now Kon is manhandling him, _using_ him as he sees fit, and Tim’s mortified at the way it makes his cock ache and throb and pulse inside his boxer-briefs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kon snarls against him, and it feels like the word is vibrating right down into him and the noise Tim makes is almost a _sob_. 

“You - You’re going to -” Kon turns his head, _bites_ at the cheek of Tim’s ass, holds on until Tim’s gasping and scratching his nails over his scalp, pulling at his own hair just to have something to _grip_. When Kon’s teeth let go, Tim can’t fight back a groan at the loss of sensation. 

“You’re going to let me see you like that,” Kon rasps, voice low and angry, and then his thumb is pushing against Tim’s hole through the fabric, rubbing against it in tight, jerky little movements. “Right? Tell me! Tell me you’re going to let me see!” 

His thumb pushes a little harder, not quite inside but just enough that it’s holding Tim open, no matter how much he clenches, body trying for more. Tim trembles and nods, forehead damp with sweat as it moves against his arm. “Yes, I’ll - _Yes_.”

“You’re gonna dress up in those panties for me!” Kon growls and his thumb is moving now, flexing against Tim’s hole but never really pushing in. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tim groans, mortified at how earnest he sounds, at the way he’s struggling against the TTK’s hold, trying to push back against Kon’s thumb. 

“Wanna see you in them, wanna see you _hard_ in them,” Kon pants, dragging the fabric up and down Tim’s cleft with his fingers, friction and sensation and not enough, not what Tim needs. “Fucking panties stretched around your cock or, shit, bet there’s a jock in them.”

And suddenly there’s a firm, curved surface cupping Tim’s cock, the exact same size and shape as the jock he wears under the Red Robin uniform. Kon’s TTK, and it’s right _there_ , Tim can feel it, but he can’t push against it. Can’t _rub_ against it, and he’s definitely sobbing now, dry and hurt little noises that he’s never heard himself make before.

“Gonna bend you over in them, see your tight little ass.” Kon’s almost slurring now, and he pushes his face down against Tim’s ass, rubs his cheek against the boxer-briefs, licks up against the thumb still driving Tim crazy. “Bend you over the _Batmobile_ , watch you scratch up the paintwork as you go fucking _crazy_ for it!”

“Yes,” Tim hisses, every muscle tense as he strains against the TTK, trying to push into the invisible cup, trying to push back on to Kon’s thumb. “Anything, _please_.”

“God, yeah, grind up against you,” Kon mutters against his skin. “Get you wound up, just like this. Watch you make a fucking _mess_ of those panties as you come all over yourself!”

Tim keens, toes flexing against the sheets, before he turns and bites against the skin of his wrist, feeling like he can’t breathe, like he’s going to _die_ like this, Kon driving him insane, making him need this, making him _submit._

And then, just like that, the TTK jock is gone, Kon’s thumb is gone, the heat of Kon’s breath against him is gone. Just the TTK grip on his hips holding him up and Kon’s voice sounding rough and hungry as he murmurs, “Good little Robin.” Right before the flat of his palm slams down against Tim’s ass, ringing slap that makes Tim surge forwards, teeth digging into his wrist almost hard enough to break the skin as he tries to muffle the wrecked, desperate wail that wrenches its way out of him. Sharp and sudden vertigo as he flushes, cock pulsing as he comes inside his boxer-briefs, hips still desperately trying to thrust and buck against a hold that won’t give. 

It almost _hurts_ , coming like that, no real touch, no real pressure, and Tim’s whimpering and shaking, feeling fucked out and weak. It takes far too much energy just to turn his head, to look back at Kon.

Who’s floating just behind him, bent over in midair, hand shoved down his boxers as he roughly works himself. Free hand pushing the waistband lower, so Tim can see the flushed curve of his cock as Kon pumps at it, the slick head moving between his fingers. Then Kon’s reaching out, hand pressing against the base of Tim’s spine, and Tim makes a soft noise, high in the back of his throat, as Kon grunts and aims and comes with a hot, wet rush against Tim’s lower back and ass.

Tim groans and buries his face against his arm again and tries to get his breathing back under control.

He doesn’t look up until he feels Kon’s weight settle back against the mattress beside him.

The last thing he wants to do is move, but he forces himself to roll over, wincing at the way it pulls his boxer-briefs over too-sensitive skin. 

Kon’s staring at him. His cheeks are flushed, the hair at his temples curling slightly with sweat, his lips parted and a little swollen. Still, his eyes are focused, watching Tim curiously.

Tim feels himself scowl a little. “What?” he grumbles. His boxer-briefs feel gross. From _both_ sides.

Kon’s smile is soft and annoyingly affectionate. “Nothing. Just waiting for you to start freaking out, is all.”

Tim snorts and curls forward a little so he can reach down and start shoving the boxer-briefs down his legs. “Why would I freak out?”

Kon’s smile gets a little wider. “Because, Mr. Control Freak, you _always_ freak out when you’re not the one giving orders.”

Tim freezes, one knee awkwardly bent off the bed, fingers still gripping his waistband. “I don’t give orders during sex!”

That gets him a chuckle, and Tim resumes kicking off the boxer-briefs a little more aggressively. “You so do. And, F.Y.I., it’s _totally_ hot.” Kon reaches over, touching two fingers to Tim’s hip, and the TTK pushes the boxer-briefs off Tim’s ankles and tosses them to the floor. “But sometimes _I_ get to be in control, and you lose your fucking _mind_ over how good it is, and then you do that weird, quiet freak out thing where you pretend everything is fine but you’re secretly going nuts.”

Kon’s fingers are still on his hip, rubbing in a small circle. Kon’s still smiling, but there’s a carefulness to the way he’s touching Tim, like he’s handling a loaded weapon.

There’s a part of Tim that wants to protest, maybe get indignant, maybe even turn it into an argument. But he knows he’d only be doing it to change the subject, to deflect Kon’s attention. 

He can do that with a lot of people and get away with it, but Kon isn’t one of them.

Tim sighs. “I’m not freaking out. I’m not _going_ to freak out,” he says quietly. “But, yeah, okay, maybe I _do_ like to be in control. And maybe it surprises me that I can kind of enjoy it when I’m not.”

Kon makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “Kind of enjoy it?! Dude, you came without me even _touching_ you!”

“You touched me plenty,” Tim points out. Kon’s whole hand is on his hip now, palm moving up and down the top of his thigh.

“You know what I mean,” Kon grins. “And none of this was my fault, anyway. You should _know_ waving those Robin panties in my face like that is a red flag!”

“A red flag?” Tim grunts. “You make fun of them all the time.”

“I _talk_ about them all the time,” Kon corrects. “Because they’re hot. The idea of _you_ in them is just -”

He makes a deep, rumbling noise of appreciation, and Tim chooses not to comment on the way Kon reaches down and adjusts himself. “Okay, point made,” he says instead. He sighs again and shifts a little closer, and Kon instantly wraps an arm around his waist to tug him closer still.

“So you’re not freaking out? Not even a little?” Kon asks.

Tim can’t fight back a smile. This close, their noses are almost touching. “Nope, I promise.” He lets Kon pull him into a hug, before mumbling into the hollow of Kon’s throat, “You think you know me so well.”

Kon snickers at his exaggerated put-upon tone. “I _do_ know you so well. See, I know that when you promise you’re not freaking out, you mean it. Because you never willingly break a promise.” His arms tighten a little. “So, say, if you made a promise about modelling a certain uniform for me? Well, you’d _never_ break that promise and, by extension, break my heart. Would you, Tim?”

Tim feels his face begin to heat up again almost instantly as his mind instantly supplies a reel of himself wearing the Robin shorts, Kon looming over him, reaching for his bare legs, fulfilling every fantasy he just created and more besides. 

“Well, since you know me so well, I guess you already know the answer,” he replies, somehow keeping his voice steady as he hides his blush in the curve of Kon’s shoulder.

This close, he can hear the wet sound of Kon’s lips parting around a huge, victorious grin. “ _Awesome_.”


End file.
